Tuesday, February 20, 2007

You know, I’m beginning to think that your Metro ride is only as good as the people you’re riding with. If your fellow passengers have no consideration for anyone other than themselves, then chances are your ride is gonna suck.

Take for example, exhibit A—older gentleman guy, professionally dressed, riding on the Orange Line at approximately 8:30 a.m. today. At Ballston station, the train gets uncomfortably full, meaning that Exhibit A would have to share the space around the pole he was hogging, where he was comfortably reading his WaPo Express. Heaven forbid Pole Hogger actually use only one hand to read his Express. Pole Hogger needed two hands to hold up his paper, meaning he simply was not capable of holding on to the pole, therefore Pole Hogger decided to lean the entire length of his body against it. Oh just disregard the other passengers trying to hold on to the pole. After all, he was trying to read his Express, peeps!

Pole Hogger left me and the vertically challenged passenger to my right no choice but to hold on to the pole in the two spots his body wasn’t covering—the small of his back (which I left for the girl next to me who couldn’t comfortably reach the second option) and his head (my arm is long enough to reach that high, still it wasn’t fun). The train continued to get more crowded and crowded (sorry Courthouse commuters, no space for you!). But Pole Hogger would not budge. However, Shorty and I had to shift constantly to accommodate him.

At Rosslyn, the train was so packed I was being sexually assaulted every time I shifted. Unfortunately, I had to move closer to Pole Hogger to make room for the passengers who were forcing themselves onto the train. Apparently, Pole Hogger did not appreciate this invasion of space and he turned to me and scowled. All of this was fine by me. I could care less what his face looked like. But the worst part came next.

Upset that not only was I invading his space but that I also had the audacity to grab onto the free pole space by his head, Pole Hogger proceeded to lean his head back against the pole so that I would be forced to move my hand. Undaunted by his move, I kept my hand there, even if it meant that his hair grease would be all over my hand. Sure it was disgusting, but I had one more stop to go before I could get to work and scrub my hands raw in the restroom.

So perhaps if Pole Hogger had taken the time to be more considerate (and far less dreadful), my ride to work would’ve been normal. I’ll just add this to my long list of ‘memorable’ things that happened to me while on Metro.